


We'll be okay

by Twitzy



Category: Ylvis
Genre: AU No Wives No Kids, Balle wedding, Gen, I guess this is a sad one again, M/M, but the focus isn't on that, this is all ridiculously out of character but meh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:12:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twitzy/pseuds/Twitzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vegard wasn't going to get better, everyone knew that. He wasn't going to be around much longer, but he couldn't bring himself to care most days. Sometimes, when he thought about future events though, he did care. And it sucked that he couldn't change reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll be okay

**Author's Note:**

> What is it with me and liking sad stuff? I don't know..  
> So I was watching "my perfect wedding dress" (it's my guilty pleasure, don't judge me!) and somehow this is the result of my strange tv habits.  
> Minor proofreading, written in the middle of the night. Enjoy?

It didn't matter what it was called, this thing that was killing him. What mattered was what it did to him, the way it slowly sucked the energy out of his body and poisoned his mind with dark clouds so he found it harder to lift the corners of his mouth in a smile with each passing day.  
He hadn't been shocked when he had found out. He hadn't been surprised by the number of time units the man in the white coat had told him.  
He had concentrated on the ballpoint pens that were neatly put into one of the pockets of said coat and the peculiar scent that lingered in the air of the man's office. It must have been some unusual mixture of the desinfectant and a scented candle that stood on the window bench. Citrus. Yes, it had definitely smelled of a very clean citrus fruit.  
There had been a strong hand gripping his thigh, a familiar yet different breathing pattern somewhere to his right. Of course he hadn't been allowed to deal with this on his own, his brother had forced him to let him tag along to this appointment. Vegard still didn't understand why, but he had allowed it, even if it had been just to stop the pleading eyes from looking at him that way.  
It was certainly strange, he thought to himself, that he could remember how difficult it had been to concentrate and to actually care about anything that he had been told by the doctor, but he could not remember any of the supposedly important facts and treatment issues he should be thinking about right now.  
  
Vegard had refused. He had flat out refused to start any treatment whatsoever and the only thing he already regretted about it was that he could see Bård's mind wheeling overtime to try to understand it. He could see his heart breaking, every little crack that was spreading through his brother's strong facade and the way he tried so hard not to crumble under Vegard's decision.  
He didn't have to explain. Bård understood. And he'd never ask his older brother to change his mind about this. It was too important, too personal even for him to ask this.  
Because even if Vegard hated what was happening to him, he knew that what the treatment would have brought only would have hurt more, and it would not have changed the outcome.  
He'd still die. It would only take longer, and it would be so much more uncomfortable.  
No, he'd rather stay mobile for as long as he could. What use was he to anyone if he couldn't even walk on his own, or use his hands because the tissue under his fingernails would be rotting away from the chemicals pumping through his body.  
Who would want to help him clean up again and again after being sick on bad days and nights alike? He refused to be a burden for as long as he could take it to be on his own, that was just the way it was supposed to be.  
  
Vegard hadn't thought much about dying before, but now he did. And maybe he thought about it a bit too much, but then again if you considered his situation and the everticking clock that marked his remaining time, he thought it was alright to ponder the depths of death for a bit. He didn't think it morbid to walk into a funeral parlor and ask about possible arrangements.  
Bård didn't want to come with him, but he forced himself to go. Vegard smiled, but secretly he wished Bård would have stayed at home so he didn't have to see the false grin and the redness in Bård's eyes as he asked about the cremation process and possibilites of paying for a fully planned funeral in advance.  
And that's what he did. By the end of the first week after the big news, he had everything planned out exactly the way he wanted it to be. He had planned the urn, the location and the guest list, if you could call it that. He had written a letter to everyone he held close to his heart and he had carefully picked the music he wanted to have played before, during and after the service.  
They were pieces that held a meaning, but still gave comfort and safety to those who knew what they were about. He didn't want anyone to feel exposed. Well, at least as far as not feeling exposed and raw during a funeral service goes...  
Vegard thought it would be easier. He had hoped that he'd be fine and functioning well for most of the time until the very end and that his condition would just deteriorate so quickly he wouldn't even have to suffer for very long before he was granted the privilege of unconsciousness.  
Rationally, he knew that this was a wish that would not become true. But reality still felt so much worse than he ever could have expected. He felt worse each day, and he could see it in the mirror and in Bård's eyes when he looked at either.  
The circles under his eyes changed shades, going from regular sleeping difficulties to heroin addict chic fairly quickly. His skin did the exact opposite, his usually constantly tan skin losing its glow, turning to an ashen complexion, as if to already practice the colour his body's ember would have once his mind had left the building.  
The strength in his muscles faded away and he was too tired to even care much about it nowadays. So what if he didn't have the energy to properly work the clutch of his car or to take the stairs up to the office anymore. He could just take the bus or have Bård pick him up. What good was it to be a living dead person if one couldn't get any privileges out of it.  
His attention span was growing smaller as well, making it hard for him to sit through meetings or to keep up with a discussion about new material.  
Why they even bothered to make up new stuff was beyond him, he wouldn't even live long enough to sign a contract. And even if, he sure as hell wouldn't be strong enough to hold the pen by that time.  
  
Sometimes, when he was around other people, Vegard scolded himself for thinking this way. Especially when family and friends were surrounding him, expecting him to show some sort of will to fight against this thing.  
But were they really? Or was it just something they needed so they could feel better about being so utterly helpless?  
Vegard didn't really care. About anything. He felt numb, inside and outside as well and he couldn't tell if it was some sort of neurogolical symptom or just a psychological result of all this.  
He just...didn't care. Not about himself, at least. He did care about his family, about his parents and the way they still wouldn't accept that their oldest one would be taken from them like this. About his little brother, the youngest one, who was still in his finding phase and who was baffled by the news and first thought he tried to pull a prank on him. About Bård, the middle one. The one who looked at him as if he was already dead, and yet still clung to him with such conviction that Vegard sometimes thought it'd have the power to keep him in this world for a little while longer.  
He cared about his friends, about Calle and his guys, about Magnus, about all the great people that were connected to them and to himself in any way.  
He cared about the fact that just a few months ago, his best friend since childhood years had finally found the courage to speak up and to ask Bård out.  
Vegad still smiled when he thought about Bård's flustered face when he had asked about this strange relationship and if Bård was sure it was the right thing to do.  
He remembered the soft smile on his lips and the glimmer in his little brother's eyes when he had nodded and had told Vegard that yes, this was it. He could feel it in his bones.  
The oldest one had approved, of course. Not that he had any say in his brother's love life, but he was happy to give them his blessing and to make sure his little one wasn't left alone in this world when he was gone. That he could be sure someone good was going to take care of him and would wipe away the tears that were sure to fall during those first hard days and weeks as the new oldest brother.  
Yes, he was glad Bård had found this love, and he was glad for Calle too. Even though he may have threatened him after they had told him about their engagement. And yes, Vegard had already been past his strongest point at that time, but the determined look in his eyes was still enough to make Calle swallow dryly and swear he'd rather die than see Bård hurt. Vegard huffed and chuckled at the thought. Kinda funny, wasn't it.  
No, it wasn't. Not really. But if he was not allowed to laugh and joke about this, then how was he supposed to deal with his fate? How was he supposed to be okay with not being around for their wedding? He could feel it, he could feel that his body denied him this request. He wouldn’t make it that long.  
All that was left for him to do now was wait. Wait and ponder about his short future. Only that most of the time, people wouldn't let him do that. Like right this instant, there were fingers snapping in front of his eyes, demanding attention.  
  
“Hey, Vegard. Zone back in, please? I need your opinion.”  
Bård stood in front of him, leaning down so he could look at Vegard properly.  
“Hmm? Sorry, I was thinking about something.”  
“Yeah I could see that.” Bård's smile didn't spread like it used to, but it was better than on most days. Today there was a hint of that gleam that Vegard missed so much nowadays.  
“Now, would you please take a look and tell me if this is any better than the last one?”  
Vegard let his eyes wander over the 3rd tuxedo his brother had tried on in this store. He smiled. “Yeah. It's better. A lot better. It's perfect, actually.”  
Bård turned and looked himself up and down in the full body mirror again.  
“Are you just saying that so we go home?” Bård looked at him in the mirror, raising one eyebrow in question.  
“No I'm not.” Vegard laughed a bit, but quickly stopped when he felt his body ache at the shaking movement. Today was not a good day when it came to pain levels.  
“Do you want another painkiller?” Bård had turned towards him again, this time completely focussed on Vegard's expression and the way his hands clenched on his knees.  
“No, it's okay. I'll be fine.”  
“Vegard...”  
“Bård. I said I'm fine.” If there was one thing he didn't want to see, it was the pity in his brother's eyes. That was the only thing he did not want to deal with. He didn't need it, he could speak up if he needed another pill, a stronger shot, a gun to shoot himself before the pain got too much. He would never do that, but he had a voice and a mostly clear mind to speak up for himself, so he really did not want to receive this kind of look from Bård. Or anyone else, for that matter.  
“Okay. Sorry.” Bård made a gesturing move with his hands.  
“White shirt? Or different colour? And should the tux be blue or black? Or gray? Oh god, I can't decide.”  
Vegard chuckled again, shaking his head a bit at Bård's sudden insecurity.  
“Blue. We already talked about that. And you already have the perfect shirt to match the tux at home. And the shoes. You just need a bow tie or a regular slim tie and you're good to go. Unless you want to get a veil or something.”  
Bård nodded a bit, but was still deep in thought.  
“Wait a second. I'll be right back.”, he said to Vegard before he quickly walked over to the salesman of the fancy store.  
Vegard sighed and leaned back in the comfortable armchair. At least they had comfortable furniture here in this crazy expensive shop.  
Bård took longer that the little while he had promised, and Vegard asked himself why he had agreed to come along to look for a new tuxedo for Bård to wear on his wedding day.  
Bård had said he didn't want anything fancy. He wanted to look good, yes, but not over the top exquisite silk clothing good. He knew what looked best on him and what he wanted, so Vegard didn't really see the point in coming along, but when Bård had asked, he didn't find it in him to say no. It had been so long since they had done anything together, apart from working or Bård supporting him in some sense. It was nice to be the helping one for once.  
  
“Hey. Um..Vegard?” He had zoned out again, as it seemed. Vegard made an effort to focus on his little brother again, who was now standing in front of him, dark blue tux adjusted by some pins to fit him perfectly, shirt just a tad too loose under the jacket. The slim tie was bound perfectly and the leather shoes were clearly out of the price range Bård had been looking for.  
Vegard couldn't help but smile at his brother's slight blush.  
“You look perfect.”  
“Thanks.”  
“I thought you didn't want to buy everything new?”  
Bård fidgeted and bit on the nails of his right hand in an unconscious movement.  
“Yeah. I..um..I just-”  
“Bård. What is it?” Vegard could feel his patience wearing thin, another result of getting tired so quickly now. He could feel a headache forming and he'd rather be at home when it fully hit.  
The younger one took a deep breath and looked at Vegard, who was surprised to see his eyes shine with tears that hadn't been there before.  
When Bård opend his mouth, his voice was a whisper, low and rough, not ready for the world to hear him.  
“I just wanted you to see me. You know, how I'll look when I get married?”  
A tear escaped his blinking eyes and he wiped it away with the back of his hand in an angry gesture.  
Vegard stood up, completely baffled by his words. “Oh Bård..I really don't know what to say.”  
“Don't-” Bård had to take a sharp breath to continue speaking. “Don't say anything. Just look at me. Look at me and imagine it's my wedding day.” He smiled, despite his bloodshot, wet eyes and his shaking lower lip. He spread out his arms. “Tadaa.”  
Vegard could hear Bård's voice break and barely a second passed before he had his arms wrapped around his little brother, letting him hold on tightly while sobs he couldn't control any longer passed through his body. Vegard didn't cry. He was calm. His hand rubbed soothing circles over Bård's back and he kept repeating a few words in the same soft tone.  
“You look beautiful. He'll love it. It'll be good.”  
They kept standing there for a long time, arms wrapped around each other, Bård's face buried in Vegard's neck. The salesman had discretely left them alone and had started to go over some costumer's order to let them have their moment in peace.  
Vegard let his little brother take as much time as he needed. He felt a bit guilty for not being able to cry, but he simply couldn't. But he had told him the truth. He really did look beautiful, radiant even. He had made the right choices, with his husband-to-be as well as the wedding attire.  
It was just such a shame he wouldn't be able to witness this day in his life, that he wouldn't be there to see Calle get all giddy before the ceremony, and the way he'd turn into an emotional mess, even though he would try to seem cool and collected.  
Vegard knew them both so well, and he knew that they'd freak out a bit, but in the end this was the best thing they could ever do.  
He may have been sceptical at first, but he had quickly realized just how lucky he was to see his brother get together with his best friend.  
He thought about this while letting his hand circle over Bård's back again and again, until he calmed down. Vegard passed him a tissue and smiled when Bård rolled his eyes as he cleaned his face and wiped his nose. “Sorry. I didn't mean to..um..to do this.”  
Vegard smiled at him and reached up to wipe another trail of tears away from his cheek.  
“Don't worry. It's alright.”  
Bård would exhale shakily, but nod and start to take off the expensive tux.  
“Yeah. We're okay.”  
  
They bought it all. Or rather, Vegard bought it. Before Bård could even protest, Vegard had handed the salesman his credit card and had him make sure the changes on the tuxedo would be done within the next week so Bård could pick it up soon.  
Bård grabbed onto his hand when they sat in the car.  
“Thank you.”  
Vegard said nothing. He just smiled softly and squeezed his hand a bit, before Bård put in the gear and pulled out of the parking space to drive home.

 

* * *

 

Days passed and turned into weeks and all this time Vegard wished for nothing more than for this endless waiting to be over already.  
He could feel his lungs burn a little more with every breath he took, his head hurt almost constantly now, despite the incredibly high dosage of painkillers. The doctor had said he didn't like to prescribe it in such high leves because of the risk of developing an addiction.  
Vegard had laughed and replied that if there ever had been a time to become a junkie, this was it.  
The doctor couldn't help but agree and had given Vegard a full pass into the land of prescription drugs to ease his way during his last weeks.  
His legs wouldn't hold him for a long time anymore, and he had a had time getting up by himself now. There were some new lines on his face and grey strands in his hair and he didn't know if it was the stress or the chemicals in his body that were changing him.  
He didn't have to step on a scale to notice he had lost weight. His face looked gaunt, his eyes dull and sunken, the bones were clearly showing on his hands and collarbones. He didn't let anyone see the rest of his body for as long as he could avoid it. The ribs that you could count one by one now, the bruises and angry spots on his skin. He didn't tell them about the way his stomach would cramp when he tried to eat, or the way his throat hurt when he tried to drink.  
He didn't tell anyone about the dreams that kept him in a state of mild awareness at night, refusing to let himself succumb fully to sleep because he knew the nightmares would be back to haunt him one last time.  
No, he did not tell them he felt like throwing himself off a cliff. Because frankly, it would break their hearts more than it already was, and he would never kill himself. First of all, because he couldn't. Using pills wasn't safe enough and for everything else, he'd need help. He couldn't even climb into the bathrub without help.  
It was degrading in a way Vegard had never thought he'd feel, and he hated every second. But he had gotten good at blocking out his surroundings and letting himself be handled in the way that was neccesary. There were many things his family should not have had to do for him, but he chose not to think about it. There was no reason to make his remaining time more uncomfortable for himself than any necessary.  
Yes, he was in constant pain, and every move hurt more than he could have imagined, but his mind was still mostly clear. Especially when he forced himself to reduce the pain meds for a while.  
And he did. He did it so he could write one last message to them, to the important people in his life. Becaus he felt that he had to tell them one way or another, and talking had never been his strong suit.  
So he put it all down, bit by bit, word by word. It took a long time, since he had to use his laptop. Holding a pen for a long period of time and making coordinated movements was out of the question. But he could type. Slowly, but he could do it.  
In the end, he had everything ready and printed out, folded and put in envelopes with names on them. Those he had written by hand. Or..drawn. He teared up when he realized the names he had written looked like the work of a first grader.  
There was one for his parents, for Bjarte, for Calle and for Bård. There was one for the guys at the office and one for his neighbours -Johanna and Knut.  
He laid them out on his couch table and went to get himself a glass of water. He walked slowly, leaning on every surface on his way.  
He was glad to be alone now. His parents had tried to stay with him, but he had insisted they go out and get some fresh air tonight. He wanted some privacy. He had called Bård a while ago and talked to him, if only for a short amount of time. He had been by only yesterday, just like every day before. This time Vegard had told him to stay at home. He had said he was just sleeping anyway, so maybe it'd be better if he came here again tomorrow. As if tomorrow would be any better.  
Vegard sighed and took a sip of the cool liquid before making his way into his bedroom.  
He laid down and covered himself with the duvet.  
It was dark inside here, due to the heavy curtains. It smelled of despair and resignation. Somehow Vegard had started to recognize this smell. It had also been a part of the smell in his doctor's office during the big appointment.  
He sighed and closed his eyes. It would be over soon. All the pain, all the hurt, gone. He couldn't wait for it to be over.

 

* * *

 

 

They were all gathered at the Ylvisåker family ground. Calle had been delighted to find that they'd be able to hold the wedding here, instead of some random place far from town.  
He wanted to be home for this, and he knew that even though Bård was still struggling with being here, he'd be glad that he hadn't chosen to run away from this place.  
It had been tough, Calle wouldn't lie about that. It had been so tough that there had been moments where he'd thought it was time to give up.  
He had tried his best to keep Bård with him, to keep him going even after Vegard had passed, but it had been so hard for them both.  
Bård had crumbled, he had just stopped to _be_ for a while, and it took Calle a long time to coax him back into their world. It had been hard to see him like that, but then again Calle himself hadn't been much better.  
He had never expected to scream until he was hoarse, or to cry until his eyes felt like he had rubbed sand in them. He only let Bård see him break down once, and certainly not by choice. He didn't want him to feel like Calle couldn't be strong for him. Because he could, he could do that. He just needed time to mourn himself as well.  
There was a point when Calle had though it would never get better, but he was glad to see he was wrong.  
It did get better. They would never not feel this stabbing pain in their chests when they looked at old pictures, or when they thought or talked about certain situations or plans they had made, but it got easier to soothe those wounds, to pick themselves up again and keep living their lifes. It would be okay.  
Sometimes, Bård would open the little envelope he had been given, the one with his name scrawled on it in a barely readable way.  
Inside there was one page of little black letters printed on cheap white paper. There were promises and confessions formed by those letters, words of hope and of love. They talked about how he should enjoy his wedding to the fullest and that even though Vegard had never believed in a god, he would try all he could to be watching his little brother say yes. Because for some reason, being close to death seemed to give you the ability to reconsider your opinion on the afterlife.  
Maybe he had just written that to give Bård a way out, to give him a chance to believe the loss he had suffered wasn't as radical as it seemed at first.  
Vegard had made sure to tell Bård he loved him, in words that were so clear he couldn't misread them in any sense. He told him he was the best oldest little brother he could have wished for and that he had felt blessed to share his life with him for such a long time. He told him not to let himself be eaten up by the anger inside him. Because that seemed like a thing Bård would do.  
And Vegard had told him that he'd look beautiful on his wedding day. Not handsome. Beautiful. Just like he had said that day when he had bought Bård's tuxedo, that now seemed so far in the past. And on a little note, a ripped off piece of squared paper, Vegard had scribbled a few more words by hand.

Calle didn't know that Vegard had paid for the clothes, or that he had come along with Bård that day. Maybe the younger man would tell him someday.  
But for now, it was his memory, and he didn't want to share it with anyone else.  
He thought about it when he stood in front of Calle and saw him smile back as they were told to exchange the rings.  
Bård couldn't help but raise his eyes to the sky for a split second, scolding himself a bit as he did so because this sure was something Vegard would have laughed about. He grinned.  
Calle took his hand in his and slipped the metal band on his finger.  
Bård felt warm again when he did the same. The people surrounding them applauded as they kissed softly.  
Bård smiled. It wasn't how it was supposed to be, but it was going to be okay in some way.  
He didn't know how exactly, but he believed in the words Vegard had said and the ones he still held in the front pocket of his tux. He should listen to him. It has always worked out for him in the past, so he shouldn't stop listening to his big brother just because he wasn't around anymore.  
He let his hand slip inside his tuxedo jacket and his fingertips slid across the rough edges of the paper. On it, there were a few words, smudged by the many times the note had been touched and folded.  
“Be happy for me. I want to see you smile. I love you.”

 


End file.
